


The Sorceress' Truth

by PotterheadElleth



Series: The Lothlorien Princess [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Ents, F/M, Kidnapped, Lord of the Rings, Lothlorien Princess Book Two, Magic, Multi, Orcs, Princess - Freeform, Sorceress, The One Ring - Freeform, War, battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 21,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotterheadElleth/pseuds/PotterheadElleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Authiel Galadhrim, like young Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took of the Shire, has been captured by the deadly Uruk-Hai after the death of their comrade, Boromir of Gondor.</p><p>Together they travel as captives to Isengard where Saruman the traitor awaits them. He thinks the Hobbits hold the One Ring and he wishes for Authiel to stand as his Queen when he rules part of Middle Earth under Sauron’s reign.</p><p>Yet there is hope for the trio, for one night they escape into Fangorn Forest and meet some they did not expect; someone who they all believed to be dead. With the Ent Treebeard as their guide, the trio travel through Fangorn and seek revenge on the one who captured them.</p><p>However, the Valar have more tests in mind for Authiel.</p><p>Can she prove herself worthy of becoming one of the Istari?</p><p>Will her hidden past be revealed to her completely?</p><p>Will the Sorceress’ learn the truth?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Authiel Galadhrim, like young Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took of the Shire, has been captured by the deadly Uruk-Hai after the death of their comrade, Boromir of Gondor.   
Together they travel as captives to Isengard where Saruman the traitor awaits them. He thinks the Hobbits hold the One Ring and he wishes for Authiel to stand as his Queen when he rules part of Middle Earth under Sauron’s reign. 

Yet there is hope for the trio, for one night they escape into Fangorn Forest and meet some they did not expect; someone who they all believed to be dead. With the Ent Treebeard as their guide, the trio travel through Fangorn and seek revenge on the one who captured them. 

However, the Valar have more tests in mind for Authiel. 

Can she prove herself worthy of becoming one of the Istari? 

Will her hidden past be revealed to her completely? 

Will the Sorceress’ learn the truth?


	2. Prophecy

Ten members of the Fellowship,  
Ten times brave and true.  
But if some are not careful,  
Then all will be through.

If this is so, then two will be lost.  
One in darkness which bears a great cost,  
The other soon after, there is no doubt  
That he will split up the short and stout. 

Eight there will be,   
All separate from loss.  
Three with the enemy,  
Two still lost.

One will return,  
And those shall be saved.  
But battle will keep all apart  
For many a day.

Two still apart,  
One never to return.  
If it is not destroyed  
Then evil will churn.

If that is so,  
Then none can survive.  
Unless those who go  
Do risk their lives. 

Ten fine companions  
All brave and true.  
They are the ones  
That will save the world for you.


	3. The Uruk's March

... But, my blades were never able to collide with the already mutilated flesh of my foes. For I was forcefully lifted over an Uruk’s shoulder and my blades clattered out of my grasp; leaving them abandoned on the bloody ground. I struggled, desperately trying to escape from its foul grasp. Instead, my head collided with something heavy. A dizziness fell over me and a dull ache drifted along the side of my head. A sticky liquid slipped down the side of my face and I watched as the red droplets slowly dripped to the floor; leaving a trail behind me. Just before the darkness consumed, I was able to utter a single word,  
“Legolas…”

My head constantly slammed up and down on some unknown entity that felt like the cold sting of steel. A pain filled moan spilled from my lips when my sensitive ears picked up the sound of thousands of pounding feet that slammed the trampled earth. Slowly my eyes opened and I instantly snapped them shut again for the bright light of the sun filled my eyes; almost blinding me. Slowly I opened them again, once my tender pupils had recovered and I had grown bored of the lingering darkness that had shrouded me. That was when I saw the disfigured head that was attached to the ghastly body whose shoulder I was thrown over.   
“Authiel! Authiel!” A voice urgently whispered.   
I painfully turned my aching neck to face the being who had called my name.   
To my delight, and horror, I saw that it was the curly, brown haired Hobbit; the lovely Peregrin Took.  
“Pippin, what are you doing here?”   
“They got me, and Merry, too!”  
“What? … When? … How?”   
“They grabbed us at the same point as you, before Boromir …. Boromir … died ….”  
That was when I saw Merry. His head was hanging on the side of the Uruk’s shoulder and his head was bleeding from a wound at his temple; his curly hair was matted as well with congealing blood.   
“What’s wrong with him?” Pippin asked; the panic obvious in his voice.   
“The injury to his head must have rendered him unconscious, as it did for myself!”  
It was then that I noticed that his breathing was beginning to shallow.   
Suddenly, the Uruk’s stopped and my head slammed painfully into the my capture’s helmet and it took all my effort not to cry out in pain. I lifted my head up and saw a group of Mordor Orcs emerging from behind some rocks; shielding their eyes from the lights.   
“You’re late!” The Orc leader hissed, “Our master grows impatient. He wants the Shire-rats and his girl now!”  
“His girl!” I hissed, astounded, “His girl! I was his apprentice and nothing more! How dare he hint such vile things!”  
The Uruk’s ignored me.  
“I don’t take orders from Orc-Maggots. Saruman will have his prize. We will deliver them!”  
To my side, Merry had gained consciousness and was looking rather sick whilst her groaned in pain.   
“Merry! Merry! Wake up!”   
That was when he spotted the Uruk drinking some liquid from a wine skin. Pippin desperately looked from Merry, to the wine skin and back again. Instantly, I knew what he was about to do.   
“Pippin …” I urgently whispered, “Pippin no!!”  
But, he ignored me.   
“My friend is sick. He needs water. Please!” He begged.   
“No!” I hissed, knowing the outcome would not be good.  
“Sick, is he?” The sinister creature growled in his gruff voice, “Give him the medicine, boys!” He continued before manically laughing.   
One of the Uruk’s roughly grabbed the back of Merry’s head and poured a black, syrupy liquid into his mouth. Merry coughed and spluttered, the vile substance trickling down the side of his face as he came too.   
“Stop it!” Pippin cried.   
“Can’t take his draught!” The first Uruk hysterically cried.  
“Leave him alone,” I growled, venom dripping from my mouth.   
“Why? You want some? Huh?” The Uruk spat. He paused slightly, waiting for a non-existent reply, “Then keep your mouth shut!”  
He looked me straight in the eye and lifted his grubby hand to my face. With his cracked claws, he dug his fingers into my cheeks and grinned at me with a sadistic smirk. Slowly he leant close to my face and said in his growling voice with a foul smelling breath which slammed into my face, causing my nose to wrinkle in disgust,   
“We wouldn’t want anything to happen to that pretty face, not when you could be so ….” He paused and I watched, repulsed, as his eyes trailed over my tight corset with a suggestive raise to his eyebrow, “ … so useful!”  
I let out a disgusted huff before a shrugged his hand off of me and growled,   
“As if I would ever make myself useful to you!”   
“We’ll see!”  
“No you definitely will not.”  
With that he wandered back over to his group and began to lead the group away from the rocks; closer and closer to Saruman.   
“Merry!” Pippin urgently whispered, grasping my attention.   
“Hello Pip …” He groggily replied, now completely conscious.   
“You’re hurt!”  
“I’m fine. It was an act.”  
“An act?” Pippin questioned, his voice brimmed with surprise.  
“See. I fooled you too. Don’t worry about me, Pippin.”  
“Once I release myself from these infernal binds I will heal you, Merry,” I promised.   
“I think you need more help than me, Auth. You look awful!” Merry chuckled.   
“Oh wonderful, Merry. Just what I wanted to hear.”  
He grinned shyly at me whilst I struggled against the tight bonds that held my arms painfully behind my back. I knew that the bonds would not come loose unless they were forceless cut by a blade; something which was not likely to happen any time soon. With an annoyed huff, I laid my head on the cold Uruk armour and sadly stared at the scenery as we charged through the barren countryside; hopelessness filling me.   
My head slammed against my Uruk’s armour as the horde suddenly stopped again; the Uruk leader frantically sniffing the air whilst nervously looking around.   
“What is it? What do you smell?” A random Uruk asked.  
“Man flesh!” The leader replied, still sniffing.   
“They’ve picked our trail!”  
A ghost of a smile spilled onto my lips and I whispered,  
“Aragorn!”  
Legolas, you are near, you will save us from this terrifying ordeal.  
“Move!” The Uruk leader roared.   
From the corner of my eye, I watched as Pippin ripped his Lorien leaf brooch from its clasp around his neck with his teeth. He quickly looked from side to side before he spat it out of his mouth; onto the ground.   
I smiled at his actions and manoeuvred my chin so that half of the Lorien leaf pendant sprang loose from its hidden barrier beneath my clothing. With a forceful tug, I ripped the chain from around my neck and allowed it to freely flow to the ground.   
Find me, Legolas. Save us from these demons that have us in their gruesome grasps. Recognise our united pendant and return it to me when we are reunited.   
A single tear dropped from my eye, trailed down my face and sadly fell to the floor.   
“Please,” I whispered with heavy eyes, “Please, protect us. Oh, Valar protect us!”  
With an exhausted sigh, I let my head fall gently back onto the helmet before I looked over to the darkening sky. Drowsiness washed over me, drowsiness induced by the large amount of blood which I had lost from my head wound. For a few seconds, I tried to wrestle with the feeling, knowing that I should try and keep consciousness for as long as possible or I could never wake again; yet I was unable to keep it under control. My eyes began to become heavier and heavier and soon they were so heavy that I was only able to briefly hold them open for a minute before darkness took me.   
Hours passed with the only sound that greeted was that of the harsh breathing of my Uruk and the ever constant pounding of the hordes disfigured feet. Constantly, I drifted in and out of consciousness. Each time I fell into darkness fearful thoughts filled my head, thoughts that perhaps it would be the last time that I was to wake and that never again would I be able to lay my eyes up my love’s fair face and chiselled features. Sadness filled me each time I thought this but I awoke each time none the less; it seemed that my strength refused to leave me.   
The next time we stopped, the sky had turned an inky black colour and everything seemed to be full of menacing evil with nothing to show of the hope or joy; the stars were not even visible.   
“We’re not going no further until we’re had a breather!” An Orc explained, glaring at the Uruk-Hai leader.   
Merry and Pippin were flung to the ground, causing them to grunt and groan in pain whilst the Uruks that had been lugging them around sneered down at them. I snapped my eyes shut when I felt my Uruk shift its weight. I feared the worst. Instead, its arms grabbed me fairly gently and I placed carefully on the floor. I lay on my side, trying not to crush my hands which were still tightly tied behind my back, and shook my mattered hair out of my face. I grimaced when I felt more blood trickle down the already blood streaked skin and a whimper slipped from my lips when I thought of how I actually looked.   
“Authiel, Merry,” Pippin whisper shouted, crawling over to us.  
“I think we might have made a mistake leaving the Shire, Pippin!” Merry whispered.  
A groaning sound filled the air. With aching muscles, I turned my head and saw the vast forest that stretched out across my view. A weak smile spread across my lips and I longingly looked at the dark green ferns that were so similar to the ones from my homes. However, my smile vanished when I heard the cries of pain from the trees. The Uruks and Orcs were bringing their blunt axes down onto the twisted limbs that the pleading trees had raised to the dark sky; hacking away.   
Save us! Where is our Queen? Why is she letting this happen to us?   
My heart broke slightly as their whispering pleads filled my ears. They were so helpless, and there was nothing that I could do to help them.   
“What’s make that noise?” Pippin asked, eyes wide.   
“The trees!” I plainly replied, looking sadly at the gnarled branches that were being so carelessly thrown to the floor.   
“What do you mean?” He asked, astonished.   
“Do you remember the old forest, on the borders of Buckland? Folks used to say that there was something in the water that made the trees grow taller and come alive,” Merry explained in urgent whispers, “Trees that could whisper, talk to each other, even move!”  
“We started it,” I explained as I stared with sorrow filled eyes at the events that were unfolding around me, not looking in their direction.   
“Who did?” Pippin questioned.  
“The Elves; my kin. I was among them …”  
“When was this?”  
“A long time ago ….” I vaguely answered, my voice trailing off in thought.   
Suddenly, I felt something cold press against the skin on my ankle causing a shiver to roll down my spine. A wild grin slipped into my dampening eyes as a new flame of hope rekindled in my chest; they had not removed all of my weapons. There was hope. We were not doomed. I could use it if the time for an escape was to arise.   
Uncomfortably, I shifted my weight and discreetly stared down at my foot. It looked to be ever so far away. There was no way that I could reach it. I slumped back onto my side in defeat, the flame in my chest dying as I took several calming breaths and tried to find a comfortable position; allowing me to accept my doom.   
“I’m starving’. We ain’t had nothing but maggoty bread for three stinking days!” An Uruk grumbled in complaint.   
“Yeah! Why can’t we have some meat?!” An Orc groaned. It was then that it spotted Merry and Pippin, “What about them? They’re fresh.”  
I sat up, after a slight struggle, and sent the beast a death glare before growling at it in its own foul tongue.   
“Touch them and all of you will be dead with mere minutes … I can promise you that!”  
“They are not for eating!” The Uruk leader growled.   
He nodded to one of his comrades. The beast grabbed the two cowering Hobbits by the scruff of their coats and dragged them away from the gather pack of hungry Orcs; leaving me to glare at him with a regularly heavily falling chest as I tried to hide the festering anger that swarmed beneath my skin.  
“The prisoners go to Saruman. Alive and unspoiled.”  
“Alive?” Another Orc questioned, “Why alive? Do they give good sport?”  
“And why the girl? She could give us a bit of fun!” The first Orc suggested.  
“Try it,” I growled in their foul language, “I dare you!”  
“She was his and will be again.”  
“But why alive?”  
“They have something. An Elvish weapon. The Master wants it for the war.”  
I watched, horrified, as an Orc snuck up, slowly, to the Hobbits with a blade raised high above its head as the two Shire-folk quietly conversed. It got closer and closer to the duo; licking its foul lips. It hissed,  
“Just a mouthful, a bit off the flank.”  
The Uruk leader whipped around and swiftly parted the Orc’s head and neck from one another with a single flick of its crooked blade. The head landed on the ground with a dull thud, right in front of Merry and Pippin. Fear filled their terrified eyes as they stared at it with wide eyes.   
“Looks like meats back on the menu, boys!” The leader triumphantly cried, pushing the Hobbits out of the way with a sharp push; causing them to land on me. I groaned in protest as I attempt to push them off of me. The Orcs yelled in approval whilst they feasted on their fallen comrades’ festering flesh.   
“Pippin, there is a dagger in my boot. If you want to be rid of those bonds then get it for me and slice my bonds as best as you can.”  
Shyly, he did as he was asked. He wriggled his body off of mine and twisted around so that he was able to reach down my boot. Soon I was able to move my wrists once more. Quickly I took the knife from Pippin and slipped it back into my boot before dropping onto my stomach.   
“Merry, Pippin, let’s go!”  
They quickly nodded their heads and slowly we crawled away from the feasting Orcs and Uruk-Hai. As we crawled, I concentrated on keeping a watchful eye on my surroundings, checking that the mutants were still feasting on the vile flesh of their fallen as they tore at the various limp limbs and ripped out the slimy internal organs that were thick with oozing black blood that dripped to the ground and darkened the purity of nature. Alas, my eyes were not as keen as I thought they were for the surviving Orc who had outspoken the Uruk leader had crept up behind us. I did not realise it until I heard Pippin’s startled gasp. Hastily, I flipped over and stared at the Orc who had grabbed Pippin’s chin in his mutilated fingers with his knife threateningly pointed at the terrified Hobbit.   
“Go on. Call for help. Squeal! No one’s going to save you now.”  
The Orc went to carve into Pippin, when suddenly a spear sprung through its chest. It screamed in pain and fell to its side; dead. Almost out of nowhere, what seemed like hundreds of riders charged out of the darkness armed with spears and arrows.   
“Pippin!” Merry hissed.   
The riders charged through the encampment, slaughtering the foul Orcs and Uruk-Hai as they rode.   
“Hurry up!” I whispered as I sprang to my feet, drew my daggers and helped the riders to slaughter my gruesome captors.   
That was when I heard Pippin scream. I whipped around just in time to see a horse that was about to trample him. It took all my extensive effort to not scream right there and then in complete shock as I watched. Thankfully, he was not trampled by the steed. Instead, he was just able to roll to the side.   
“Go,” I urged, “To the trees.”  
They nodded their heads and crawled away from the battle; hands still bound.   
I grew distracted by the innocent Hobbits, terrified that something would happen to them. So distracted that I paid very little attention to my surroundings. The thing which brought me back to reality was a burning pain in my shoulder and a high pitched scream slipped from my lips. An Orc stood only a few feet away from me and their sword was still being lowered to the floor. Hastily, I slit the drooling creature’s throat and clamped my hand on the flesh wound; trying to falter the bleeding.   
“There’s a girl!” Someone yelled.   
“Boys, go!” I screamed as I decapitated yet another beast’s head.   
“Miss!” Someone called, “Come here, we can help!”  
Quickly, I looked from the forest to a man who had descended from his horse and was cautiously approaching me; his arms raised in a peaceful gesture. A helmet was in his arms and he had a headful of long, dirty blond hair that hung in tattered clumps down the sides of his face. His face was streaked with blood and dirt and although he was in the middle of a vicious battle he had a kind smile on his face as he tried to encourage me to approach him.   
“My name’s Éomer, I can help you. I swear I mean you no harm.”  
“No …” I replied in a whisper, “I will not leave them …”  
Suddenly, I dashed towards Fangorn Forest, after Merry and Pippin, with the man, Éomer, shouting after me.   
“Wait … Miss please, wait!!!”  
Fear filled my heart. Cold, hard fear. I sprinted through the large forest trees of Fangorn, frantically searching for my dear Hobbits. The trees were old, very old. They held an old sense of wisdom and emotion, something which I had not felt for many years. But the emotions that the trees held were mainly made up of negative energy such as hatred and anger. The air was thick with humidity and there was very little light visible due to the large trunks, thick branches and wilting leaves that grew in the higher canopies of the trees. Cautiously I looked around as I tried to look for the boys and keep an eye out for the evil creatures which I knew to live in the shadows around the dark trees and under the twisted roots. A terrified, strangled scream came from further along the path and I instantly recognised it to belong to the voice of one Peregrin Took.   
“Merry!”  
I picked up the pace and leapt over tree roots and dodged the low hanging branches as I desperately tried to reach them. Just as I reached the sight where I had heard Pippin screaming, I watched as an Orc leaned over Merry with a sword raised high over its head. But before it could bring it down on and end the innocent’s life, it turned its head to see something. That was when the large tree foot stepped on it and squished it to a pulp. Yes, you are correct, a tree foot. Well, an Ent’s foot to be exact.   
“Run Merry!” Pippin screamed.   
But before Merry could even move, the Ent took two short steps and picked him up in its choking grasp.  
“Little Orcs, Bu-la-rum,” It grumbled.   
“Treebeard,” I screamed at the Ent, “Put them down!”  
It lazily looked over its shoulder briefly before continuing to speak in its rumbling voice to the Hobbits who had been frantically conversing to one another.  
“Tree?!? I am no tree. I am an Ent.”  
“Treebeard!” I warned angrily.   
“A Tree Herder. A Shepard of the Forest!” Merry whispered, awe filling his voice.   
“Treebeard, put them down.”  
“Treebeard, some call me.”  
“TREEBEARD!!!” I yelled.   
Thankfully, I was no longer ignored.   
“Young Princess Authiel, it is a pleasure to have you in my forests again.”  
“Put them down!” I order placing my hand on my hip.   
“I cannot, Princess. They’re little Orcs.”  
“We’re not Orcs, we’re Hobbits!”  
“Hobbits? Never heard of a Hobbit before. Sounds like Orc mischief to me. They come with fire, they come with axes. Gnawing, biting, making hack and burning. Destroyers and usurpers. Curse them.”  
As he spoke, Treebeard’s splintering gasp squeezed their waists and I could only imagine the pain as they tried to squirm out of the Ent’s bone shattering grasp.   
“No, you don’t understand. We’re Hobbits, Halflings, Shire-folk!” Merry cried in a strained voice.   
“Maybe you are, and maybe you aren’t. The White Wizard will know!”  
A gasp slipped from my lips as I gripped my arm, attempting to stop the blood flow.  
“The White Wizard?” Pippin whispered, his confusion obvious.   
“Saruman!” I growled angrily.   
Suddenly, Treebeard dropped them to the ground and something kicked me in the back, causing me to fall heavily to my knees. I groaned in pain as my wounded shoulder slammed into the ground. Lazily, I lifted myself up and I was bathed in a sudden blast of glowing white light of the menacing White Wizard. I glared up at the Istari who had betrayed us out of fear. Yet, he looked different. Something just was not quite the same.   
A gasp trickled from my lips as I realised the truth. I realised that the figure belonged to one whom I did not expect.   
But, it is impossible … completely impossible … but my vision though … the mountain side … it could not have happened …..  
“Gandalf ….”


	4. The White Wizard

“Gandalf …”  
My whisper echoed through the blinding light before it was captured by the billowing wind and dragged away; taking the bright light with it. My eyes blinked several times as I tried to get rid of the swirling spots in front of my eyes. To my side I heard Merry and Pippin gasp wonderingly and slowly my gaze trailed over the figure before me. They were clad in robes of startling white and their hair and beard too was the same dazzling snow cut peaks of the misty mountains. The same smile was printed onto their lips, an amused smile, and the eyes were still filled with that childlike spark that was caged behind the wrinkles of time.  
“It can’t be!” Merry whispered, faintly, in disbelief.   
“But you died!” Pippin muttered astounded.   
I, however, forced myself to stand, placed my hands on my hips and said with a completely straight face,  
“You are late!”  
“A Wizard is never late, Authiel Galadhrim, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.”  
I raised an arched eyebrow and looked at him with annoyance etched into my expression.  
“That is my phrase, Mithrandir!”  
For some time I stood there staring at him but I was unable to hold back my laughter. I practically spat it out. Flinging myself forwards, I wrapped my arms around his neck and let a gleeful laugh escape from my lips. Gandalf hugged me back and his familiar smell of Old Toby lingered under my nose.   
“Gandalf!” Pippin cried.  
“Gandalf? Yes, that was what they used to call me, Gandalf the Grey. I am Gandalf the White!”  
“I believed to be in the presence of Saruman; forgive me!” I whispered as I unpeeled myself from his arms.   
He placed his wrinkled hand on my shoulder and replied, “There is nothing to forgive, for I am Saruman. Saruman as he is meant to be.”  
My e-yes brows furrowed at his words and I looked at him in confusion for a moment before I began to understand what he meant. Suddenly, a thought popped into my head and I grinned at him with wide eyes.   
“Have the Valar discarded him from the Istari?”   
“It would seem so. There is now room for another, if they can prove themselves worthy.”  
I looked at him hopefully; my eyes wide with delight,  
“Then perhaps …”  
“Perhaps!”   
A wild glint filled my eyes and madly grinned at him; internally screaming with delight. Once I was able to calm my happiness from my excited state, I crouched to the ground and helped the Hobbits get to their feet. Like a mother tending to her young, I brushed both of them down, looking over them individually to ensure that they did not have any extremely bad injuries. I placed my fingers tenderly around wound on Merry’s head and studied it closely for a few minutes. It was no longer bleeding, in fact the gash seemed to have reduced, somewhat, in size; it was only the vast amount of congealed blood that made it look so horrifying. I let out an angered sigh when I realised that I had no medical equipment that I could use to clean him up. Reluctantly, I took my knife out of my boot and sliced off the bottom of my already short skirt so that I had a long strip of moderately clean fabric in my hand. Under my breath, I whispered a quiet spell which cleaned the slightly dirty cloth and my fingers before I took the cloth and cut off a small cube of it. Using this fairly small cube, I cleaned up the area the best that I was able to with my very limited amount of supplies; trying as best as I could to not harm the poor Hobbit any more. He winced in pain as I enabled that he did not receive any infections that could ail him further. When it was clean, I wrapped the remaining strip of cloth around his head and neatly tied it at the back.   
“That will do for now, well at least until I can find some proper medicine.”  
He grinned up at me and said,  
“Thanks Authiel.”  
“You are welcome, my dear Hobbit.”  
Treebeard moved to stand behind us, a smile etched upon his wooded face as he obediently looked down at Gandalf; awaiting his orders.  
“Watch over these Hobbits, Treebeard, for Hobbits is what they truly are. Protect them from evil; keep them safe.”  
Treebeard nodded his head and lifted each of them up, gently placing them on his shoulders.  
“You have a choice, Authiel. Wait with me for the Second Fellowship, as the survives have named themselves, who follow in your footsteps or stay with these Hobbits; protecting them from the evils of this world.”  
“There is but one choice for me, Mithrandir,” Looking towards the laughing duo, I paused as a smile grew on my face; before continuing, “I must stay with them.”   
“I suspected as much.”  
“Tell Legolas that I am well when you see him.”  
He smiled at me before saying in a slightly quieter tone,   
“Of course I will, mellon nin, but I think that someone else wants to see you before you leave.”  
Furrowing my brow, I looked at him with a confused expression; waiting for him to continue. However, he did nothing. Instead he let out a low whistle. Following his gaze, my lips curled upwards until they were formed a beam at the familiar sight that lay before me. A familiar being galloped forwards. A majestic mare. A majestic mare with a coat of pure black and matching coat and hooves. Everything that covered the whole of her body was black; save for the pure white strip which ran down her velvet nose.   
“Athae!” I grinned, running my hand across her smooth coat and then down her delicate nose. She blew hot air into the palm of my hand, warming my skin, as I placed a kiss in the centre of her white patch.   
“Her satchels are loaded with food, weapons and a change of clothes for you all,” Gandalf explained.  
A grateful smile filled my lips as I silently thanked him before I moved over to look in Athae’s satchel bags. In the first there was an array of Lembas bread, with some piece of fairly ripe fruit and several sheepskin wine pouches full of cool, refreshing water. Another held some weapons which I had neglected to bring with me from Lorien. Also, my staff was tied to Athae’s side; I was extremely thankful for that. The final satchel was divided in two. One half held a huntresses dress for me, and two cleaner outfits for my Hobbits, as well as several toiletries including a fair amount of medication.   
I smiled thankfully before tightening the ties on each of the satchels. When it was complete, I turned to Gandalf and announced,   
“I think we need to continue.”  
“I agree!”  
With an elegant swish of my legs, I leapt onto Athae’s back and sadly smiled at the ageing wizard. Placing the hand from my none injured arm on my heart, I bowed my head and said,  
“Namárië, mellon nin.”  
[Farewell, my friend.]  
“Namárië.”  
[Farewell.]  
Slowly, Treebeard plodded away from the shining light which Gandalf had bestowed upon us. I closed my eyes and sighed away the pain of leaving my lifelong friend again. I blinked away the prickling tears that were forming in my misty eyes and lightly nudged Athae in the ribs. Slowly, she ambled through the tree roots and over large stone after the Ent with two bobbing Hobbits on his shoulders.   
I zoned out to everything around me, and concentrated on hardening my emotions so that I held my face in a blank line of pressed lips. The cool air slammed into me, causing a shiver to roll down my spine. The wind whirled through the trees causing ghostly groans and moans to fill the densely humid air. The tiring trees seemed to be lacking in height and their twisted limbs were heavily leaning on each other. A yawn spread from tree to tree, but only my sensitive ears were able to pick up the almost silent sound.   
The trees are waking up!


	5. Memories and Entwives

Treebeard plodded through the eerie forest of Fangorn in giant strides, stepping over the low hanging branches and abandoned boulders. I, however, had to steer Athae round the debris and under any hanging branches. Treebeard was explaining about his forest home to the Hobbits, but I was not listening. I was keeping a watchful eye on the horizon. The trees were waking up, and though they would wish me no harm, I doubt that their anger for the mortal men of this world would be enough for them to attack the Hobbits; they look like small, mortal children to their lives. My eyes soon began to droop as the familiar beat of Athae’s and Treebeard’s thudding feet filled my ears. I laid down slightly on Athae’s back so that both my legs were hanging over one side of her stomach meaning that I was able to lean back onto her neck in order to get comfortable.   
“Nae, Athae, nin tress nin pul-na ir nin im ni sin!” I whispered into her twitching ear.   
[Try to stay calm, Athae, I doubt I can cope with another injury when I am in this state.]   
She let out a huff air with a whistling breath sailing through her teeth before she slowed her pace and lulled me to sleep with her constant thudding feet. 

 

Wind whistled through the trees in heart-warming cheers as Athae and I sailed through the air; galloping through the green pastures of Middle-Earth with the distant snow-capped peaks of the Misty Mountains to my right. I took a deep breath of the refreshingly subtle smell of summer flowers as my eyes searched for some prey to hunt. My bow sat in my lap, an arrow notched, and my sword loosely dangled in its scabbard which occasionally slapped my hip. I was at peace; completely at peace.   
That was when the high-pitched scream of a terrified maiden filled the air, shortly followed by an all too familiar, mutilated cry. Grasping Athae’s reigns, I abruptly tugged them making her come to a startled stop. She let out a protesting cry but I looked around the rolling hillside, ignoring her cries, and listened intently to the suddenly silent environment. A second and then third mutilated cry filled the air and a grin swept across my face as a burning fire relight in my chest.  
“Orcs!” I whispered as a familiar feeling filled me; a feeling of pure hate filled adrenaline. Athae reared up and charged towards the well-known screams.   
It took mere moments to reach and I soon small horde of about a dozen Orcs circling a terrified woman with the hunger for flesh filling their faces. She held a sword in her shaky grasp and pointed it at each of the Orcs if they tried to approach her.  
“You will not touch my child!” She screamed as she forced herself to slowly moved backwards. It was then that I noticed that small child she was desperately trying to protect.   
I let out a low whistle and instantly captured the hordes attention. I pulled back the bow string and calmly said,   
“Leave the woman alone, or face my wrath.”  
One of the Orcs let out one of their twisted laughs before saying,  
“What danger are you to me?”  
“A lot!”  
It let out another laugh before it raised its deformed sword and screamed again. All the Orcs charged forwards. I leapt from Athae’s back and expertly twirled the blades across my path; slicing the air. Some of them continued to circle the terrified woman who was now desperately clutching her child; pressing them tightly against her breast as tears of fear streamed down her cheeks. However, most approached me.   
“Run, girlie, run and hide!” The Orc hissed in its brittle, mutilated voice.   
“Because that is going to happen.”  
It ran at me, a hungry snarl playing on its lips and a dagger tightly clutched in its clammy fingers. Before it could come in an arm’s reach of me, its head and neck had long been separated; leaving a bloody puddle on the grass like small jewels. All the Orcs froze. I gave them a cocky grin as I watched the anger and fear polled into their mutilated eyes.   
“Well … who is next?”   
Fury erupted. Almost all the Orcs attacked me in a wrath that would envy even Morgoth himself. Yet, it was soon over. All of them lay dead, their limbs scattered on the earth; entwined with the wonders of peaceful nature.   
“Aaaahhhh!!!!” The woman’s scream ripped through the air and I swept around faster than lightning flashes.   
A lone surviving Orc held a blood dripping sword in its mangled grasp and sneered down at its whimpering prey. I let and anger growl before charging forwards with my raised steel. I gutted the beast … once … twice … before roughly grabbing the spineless creep by the scruff of its neck and growled in its ear,   
“Where is he? Where is you master? Take me to Azog!”  
The dying brute let out a malicious laugh as it sucked in its final breaths.   
“Why would I tell you? Azog will murder you when you sleep and mutilate your corpse, Princess. Your world will perish in fire and blood; our master will take your world for his own. Sauron li…”  
Silence. Before the beast could complete its foul sentence, it slumped to its side; limp with death. Disgusted, I let the body slump to its knees, the sound of flesh hitting the earth echoing through my ears. It slumped forwards and landed on its now broken face.   
I growled lowly at it before spitting at it in disgust; cursing its death and Orcish afterlife.   
“Help me…” The woman whispered, regaining my attention.   
Dropping down beside her, I desperately tried to not stare at the fatal wound that slipped across her abdomen, blood slowly trickling from it; seeping to there ground and cleansing the earth.   
“Help …”She whimpered, her shaking desperately trying to clog out the flow.   
I placed my hands on hers, my sword now at my side, and removed them from the wound.   
“Alas, there is nought I can do for you, my dear. The only relief I could gift you is death itself. I maybe a gifted healer yet for a wound as fatal as yours there is no cure.”  
Slowly I laid her down on the grass and lifted my hand on her face, gently stroking her paling cheek.   
“I understand, miss. But promise me own thing, keep my son safe for me, my lady, raise him as your own.”  
I smiled down at her and quietly said,   
“Of course.”  
“But, please do not tell him of his true heritage till he is of age. The burden that he will have to bear is too big for a young boy.”  
With shaking fingers, she lifted her hand up to a golden chain around her throat and with a swift yank, snapped it off and allowed a ring to fall into her hand.   
“Give this to him when he comes of age.”  
Carefully I took it from her fumbling fingers. Without looking at it, I popped it on my ring finger, for safe keeping, and then grasped her flaying hand in my own.   
“What should I call him?”  
In her final breath, she was able to utter one single word,   
“Aragorn …”

 

“Princess … Princess please wake, I need to speak to you …”  
Groggily, I opened my eyes to see that Treebeard was crouching by my side, his enormous eyes staring innocently at me.   
“What is it, mellon nin?”  
“I need to speak with you, Princess.”  
“Then speak away,” I yawned.   
“Not here; not near the young ones.”  
I looked over my shoulder to see that the Hobbits were curled up among some tree roots and were peacefully snoring away. I smiled at their peacefulness trying my best to remember exactly when I had felt like that, if ever; so young and carefree. It seemed almost impossible to me.   
“Very well. Walk with me, Master Ent.”  
Carefully, I slid off of Athae’s back and slowly began to walk in step with the giant Ent’s strides. Silence followed us as she we moved away from the slumbering Hobbits who were lying near a trickling hollow filled with the infamous Ent-draught.   
Before I disappeared beyond the sight of the quiet clearing, I paused in the never-falling shadows and smiled at the innocence of the two creatures. Yet, they had changed so much since we had departed from Rivendell. Back then they were more mischievous and now … this journey has dampened their spirits and almost silenced their laughter.   
“What did you wish to speak to me about, Treebeard?” I asked once I had caught up with him.   
“These trees have become reckless in our absence, Princess. It is dangerous for any to walk among moving their roots as we do; especially when creatures like the Hobbits travel under their branches.”  
“They would not attack when I am near them … would they?”   
“I do not know, Princess, I do now know. They hunger for the blood of those who would wish them harm; those who hacked their limbs to feed the flickering flames.  
Lowering my head, I looked to the small pieces of debris which had been scattered by hundreds of decades of time that had crept mercilessly through the shadows; claiming the trees; voices and silencing their souls.   
“Time is a cruel mistress,” I whispered, “Once these trees were warm and friendly. Once the birds would have joyfully sung to one another as mice scampered through the ferns under foot. Now, the wood has been silenced and nothing joyful sings. Men have begun to fear these trees more than they do the Greenwood; the shadows of Fangorn frighten them more than the Mirkwoodian spiders.”  
“These are deadly times.”  
“Indeed …”  
My voice trailed off as I caught sight of the congealed blood which tightly clung to my blood-stained shirt; I had almost completely forgotten about my injuries. I smiled softly at my forgetfulness before looking up at Treebeard.   
“I do believe that I ought to change into something less blood drenched and tend to my wounds.”  
“Of course.”  
A low whistle slipped from my lips and as fast as a breath, Athae was by my side. Carefully, I took my huntress’ dress from one of the saddle bags and some cleans rags from a different one before I took my staff from its supports on Athae’s side.   
“I shall re-join you in a few minutes, Treebeard. You can re-join the Hobbits if you wish.”  
His stiff limbs creaked and groaned as he bowed to me before he slowly turned around and began to gradually make his way back to the clearing.   
Hastily, I ripped the leather corset from my chest and stood there, in the middle of the forest, in my undergarments. I took the gem from my staff and gently cupped it in my hands, my fingers carefully curling round it. Briefly I closed my eyes, blocking out the loud noises of the world, and took a single, steady breath.  
“Valar, nin kyerm an-llie na-sour nin. Nesta-sin fírib herna i gar- desha athranna-deno nin!” I calmly whispered into the stone.   
[Valar, I pray for you to bless me. Heal these wounds which have been so wrongly inflicted upon me.]  
From behind closed eyes, I saw the flash of light from the jewel and a warm sting course through my body as the dried blood fell from my flesh and the wounds perfectly resealed themselves; not even scaring. Carefully I dropped my blood filled undergarments and stood completely naked in the woods; yet my hair was their ro protect my dignity.   
Quickly I slipped on fresh undergarments before pulling on a short sleeved, bustier shirt which had an extremely low cut neck line. Carefully, I stepped into the dress which had a corset tie front. Swiftly, I tied the lacing and then fastened the belt tightly around my waist. The dress straps ended around my shoulders, almost like the slim straps of a waistcoat. The dress clung tightly to my features and the soft green colours blended well with my ginger hair. The swirling floral prints embedded into the material in light brown seemed to almost glow in the dim light. After picking up my dirty clothes, I quickly walked back in the direction of the camp. In only a matter of minutes, I had caught up with Athae and Treebeard who were ambling along at the extremely dull, slow pace.   
“My Lady!” Treebeard said as he stopped and allowed me to place the clothes in Athae’s saddle bag.   
I smiled up at him as we continued to walk on in a comfortable silence. Thar was, until, distressed pleas filled my ears.   
“What’s happening?”  
“It’s got my leg!”  
“Did you hear that?” I whispered.  
Struggling sounds filled my ears. Sounds which travelled along the humid air from the clearing.  
“Merry!”  
My eyes widened in shock.   
In a low voice, I whispered,   
“The Hobbits …”  
My feet heavily pounded the earth as I leapt over wood and stone; aggressively cutting through the air.  
“Help!” Both the voices screamed.   
However, when I returned to out makeshift encampment I was greeted with silence. Frantically I scanned the area, searching for the two Hobbits; terror filling me as thoughts filled my head of the sight of finding their mangled bodies. Treebeard seemed much less disturbed than I. He spoke to the slightly stirring tree roots which I had seen the boys curled up in only a few minutes pervious.   
“Away with you. You should not be waking. Eat earth. Dig deep. Drink water.”  
The boys bolted up in the middle of the never-ending pile of leaves. I leapt towards them, pulling them out of the leaves; into my arms.   
“Are you okay? Nothing broken? Nothing eaten?” I asked, looking at them with worried eyes, frantically scanning their bodies for any obvious signs of injuries as I held that at an arm’s length away from me.  
“We’re fine!” Merry coughed.   
“Go to sleep,” Treebeard continued, “Away with you.”  
“Be more careful next time!” I whispered, hugging them both tightly to my chest, “I doubt I could cope if something happened to either of you.”  
“Come,” Treebeard said to us, “The forest is waking. It isn’t safe.”  
Quickly he picked them up and placed them on one of his shoulders.   
“Treebeard!” I called.   
He looked down at me and nodded his head, not even needing to hear my request. He leant down, placed his hand on the floor, allowing me to step onto it. Carefully he lifted his hand and allowed me to sit on his other shoulder. Slowly we began to amble through the forest once more; Athae trailing behind.   
“The trees have grown wild and dangerous. Anger festers in their hearts. Black are their thoughts. Strong is their hate. They will heart you if they can.” Treebeard explained.   
“There are too few of you now,” I added sadly, placing a tender hand on his bark, “Too few of you Ent’s left to manage them.”  
“Why are there so few of you when you live so long?” Pippin asked curiously, “Are there no Ent-children?”  
“There have been no Entings for a terrible long count of years!” Treebeard sadly clarified.  
“Why is that?” Merry puzzled.  
“We lost the Entwives.”  
“Oh,” Pippin gasped, “I’m sorry. How did they die?”  
A light giggled crept up my throat and I was just able to say,  
“Die? No they did not die!”  
Before I erupted into a miniature fit of giggles.   
“We lost them,” Treebeard continued, “And now we cannot find them. I don’t suppose you’re seen the Entwives in the Shire?”  
“Can’t say I have. You, Pip?”  
“No … what about in Lothlorien, Authiel?”  
“I may have done, once, but that was a long, long time ag. There are many places that some beings could hide if they wished in Lorien,” I replied wistfully.  
“Ummm … what do they look like?” Pippin questioned.   
“I … I don’t remember now … Authiel?”  
My brow furrowed as I thought for a moment, reaching deep into the many crevices of my mind; refreshing my multiple memories to try and find some recollection of what the Entwives looked like. Yet …  
“Neither do I …”


	6. First Meetings

Slowly we made our way through Fangorn; from my place on Treebeard’s shoulder I was able to see the world above the tree tops. The sky was pastel blue and white clouds had been smeared across it. The mountains immortalised forever in snow and swirling most stood just on the horizon of my sight, bordering the vast forest which we travelled in. Nearby the vast Entwash trickled by splashing and diving in suicidal leaps as it swept past boulders and under tree roots. A scent of sweet fruit and wet grass filled my nose, a pleasant smell really; but lingering in the back ground I caught the scent of sulphur and smoke could be found.   
In silence I sat, staring at the gem on my Love Ring as the rays from the sun drifted down and sent a sparkling glint dazzling in front of my eyes. A smile curved my full whilst I could feel my eyes beginning to prickle as tears of longing began to form.   
Subconsciously, my hand raised itself to my neck and my fingers went to grasp the pendant that is usually found around my neck. Yet, I swiftly remembered that it was not there; I remembered that I purposefully dropped it in order to allow Legolas, and the others, in which direction we were heading at that I was safe; that all free of us were safe. Sadly I dropped my hand from my neck, despair filling me as they slumped into my lap.   
“What’s wrong, Auth?” Pippin asked as he curiously peered around Treebeard’s large head.  
“It …. It is nothing …” I reassured them whilst holding back tears.   
“There’s something, I know it!” Pippin cried as he expertly clambered around Treebeard’s head and plopped down beside me.   
“Yeah, tell us!!!” Merry agreed as he sat in some of the branches on Treebeard’s head.   
“I am simply remembering …”  
“Remembering what?” Pippin quizzed.   
“Happier, simpler times which have long since passed. One time in particular.”  
“Which was?” Merry questioned.   
“An event which was held on a midsummer eve one thousand, three hundred and sixty years ago.”  
“And that was?”  
“The first, official meeting between myself and my love; my five thousand, four hundred and eight eighth birthday …”

 

A smile grew on my face as I walked through the people who had gathered in Imladris in order to celebrate. Many of the guests were Elves, but there some Men were present; as were a handful of Dwarves.   
“Happy Birthday, Princess!” Someone called.   
“Thank you, have a nice day!” I called back.   
Continuing to walk on, smiling at each of my guests and looking in no particular direction; that was what I spent my time doing. Truthfully, it was extremely boring. Galadriel and Celeborn had disappeared into the crowd; searching for some noble to speak to.  
Thankfully, my boredom was short-lived by the sound of three joyful voices crying two syllables,  
“Auntie!”  
Quickly, I spun around and went to wave a greeting to the joyful callers. Yet I was unable to do so for I was tackled by two pairs of strong arms into a bone crushing hug whilst an almost angelic voice lightly laughed. I was just able to see the top of two dark haired heads and a fair maiden with flawless features and dark braids were stood a few feet away.  
“Hello there,” I was just able to splutter before I had to take in a gasping breath.  
“Happy Birthday, Auntie!” The twins cried as they let me out of their choking embrace.  
“Thank you, my dear nephews.”  
Grinning at them, I held the boys at an arm’s length in order to closely look at them. They both looked extremely handsome in their smart robes of silver and black which magnified their tall build and strong stance. They were completely identical from their startlingly grey eyes to the way that they held themselves.   
Gently, I placed a tender kiss on both their foreheads before turning to look to my niece.   
“Arwen, why you look as beautiful as you Naneth.”  
[Mother.]  
“Thank you, Auntie, but I doubt it; Naneth and yourself are the most beautiful of our kin. I know that I shall not match either of you in beauty.”  
“You may think that, but remember this, Henig. Beauty is only an image of the flesh; people will only trust you when they know that all your soul is beautiful; that love and devotion fill you completely.”  
[My child.]  
Her flawless brow furrowed slightly as this piece of information registered in her mind. When she understood what my words meant, she gave me a soft smile and I placed a light kiss on her forehead.   
“Elladan, Elrohir. How have you faired?”  
“Well, thank you!” Elladan said with a smile.   
“Oh, good!” I replied brightly.   
“Auntie, we were sent to collect you,” Elrohir explained, “Lady Galadriel wishes for you to meet someone.”  
“Then lead the way!”  
My two glorious nephews did just that. Gradually, they marched through the throngs of guests with Elladan in front and Elrohir bringing up the rear; my own private guard. Arwen and I walked side by side in a comfortable silence.   
“Have you met the Prince of the Greenwood yet?”   
“No, well not officially. I helped bring him into this world; if you remember correctly.”  
“Oh yes, and he opened his eyes to you.”  
A sight tinge of red grew on my cheeks as I remembered that day just over six hundred years ago.  
“That is not important …”  
“But it is! You share a connection. You know the old saying,  
When an Elf opens their eyes to a female in their family, they will be loving and caring.  
If they open their eyes to a male in their family, then they will be strong and brave.   
Yet, if the babe opens their eyes to a lady who does not belong to his family then …”  
“Yes I know how it ends.   
‘Then their bond will be great for he shall protect her from the dangers of this world and shall hold the same bravery, the same love as they would hold for both the genders of their kin.’  
It means nought!”  
“It means more than nought, Auntie. It is fate!”   
Shaking my head slightly at her words, I allowed the corners of my lips to curl into a smirk whilst I subconsciously smoothed down the folds of my dress and tucked a piece of my flaming red hair behind my ears.  
All too quickly, Elladan came to an almost sudden stop and if I had not been paying attention to him I would have crashed into him, none too gracefully might I add.  
Swiftly, he stepped to the side and allowed me to approach the Lord and Lady of Lorien.   
“À Authiel, there you are,” Celeborn said with a smile.  
“Naneth, Adar!” I quietly greeted them, dipping into a curtsy.   
[Mother, Father!]  
“Rise, Henig,” Galadriel’s misty voice called.   
[My Child]  
Quickly I obeyed and I took my space at their side; holding myself as a woman should, back straight, head held high and my hand neatly clasped together in front of me, waiting for answers to the silent questions that I was asking in my looks.   
“Authiel, you remember Thranduil; King of the Woodland Realm?” It was more of a statement than a question.  
“Of course, it is wonderful to see you again, sire.”  
“And you, Princess. I hope that your day has faired well.”  
“It has thus far, my Lord. But thank you for your wishes.”  
“Princess Authiel, My Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel, may I present to you my only son, Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm.  
Time seemed to slow down as I watched a young Ellon step into my view. The first thought that registered in my mind was,   
Is this one of the Valar who has decided to walk among us?  
Which is an idiotic thought really; but I had good reason to do so.   
The young Ellon was as tall as a young tree. Even though his skin was restricted by his clothes, his muscles were clearly visible. I dropped my gaze slightly and I was staring at his feet. He wore a pair of pale blue trousers which looked almost silvery. Over this was a brocade robe that was covered in intricate mixes of rich greens, blues, yellows and golds that sat on a pale blue background. All of it was outlined in gold. A tall collar stuck up close to his ears from under the robe, hitting that he wore some sort of shirt or blouse underneath, and two silver clasped that looked like leaves sealed his robe together.   
He had long, blond hair that streamed down the side of his face and finished just past his shoulders. It was his face, however, that caused my heart to flutter.   
His high cheek bones emphasised his pastel pink lips but it was his startling blue eyes were the items which captured my breath; he was perfect.   
Gracefully I dipped into a curtsy and lowered my gaze from his angelic face; suddenly feeling self-conscious of my appearance when face to face with one of such beauty. As I lifted myself back to standing, the Prince of the Greenwood slowly bowed before he took my hand. Carefully, he raised it to his pale lips, staring me straight in the eyes, and placed a tender kiss on my cold flesh. In an agonisingly slow pace, he lifted his lips from my skin and gradually allowed me to lower my hand but his dazzling blue eyes never left my dull brown ones. My cheeks reddened slightly and I could feel an embarrassed flush spilled under my skin. This was highly peculiar; I had never felt like this. He made me feel so flustered that I had to force myself to drop my gaze and give him a shy smile.   
“Now, Thranduil, myself and Celeborn have business to discuss with you. Authiel, I am sure that you will be able to entertain the Prince,” Galadriel said in her calming voice.   
“Of course, Naneth,” I replied, attempting to hide the obvious blush.   
[Mother]  
And as quickly as she had said her words, they were gone; leaving myself and the Prince alone.   
Nerves filled me, which is extremely odd for me since I am able to fearlessly charge into battle; armed with only a sword and a slightly shattered shield.   
Yet, when faced with this Princeling I found myself trembling at my finger tips and a quickened speed to my hammering heart. Quickly, I took in a shaking breath and calmed myself down before I looked up at the handsome Prince. He had a kind smile on his face as his ocean like eyes watched me.   
“It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Princess,” The Princeling said quietly.   
“And it is a pleasure to officially meet you, Prince.”  
“Officially?” He asked, cocking his head to the side.   
“Well we have met twice in your past. When you were first born and when you were nineteen years old.”  
“I see. I think I remember our last meeting, you taught me how to handle a bow.”  
“Indeed I did.”  
He sent me a soft smile before he lowered into a bow and held his hand out to me, saying,  
“May I have this dance, Princess?”   
“Only if you will call me Authiel, my Prince.”  
“And I shall agree, if you call me Legolas.”  
“Agreed!” I replied, placing my hand on his.  
Slowly he led me into the middle of the ballroom floor; past the couples who were swaying to the music which I did not know existed until a few seconds ago.  
Gently, he placed his hand on my waist and lightly pulled me towards him. He was only a few inches taller than me but I had to look up in order to be captivated by his beautiful eyes. His lips curled into a smile as I entwined our fingers and feeling the crease along my dress seam, I lifted it up and held up the correct amount of material so that my legs could freely move and I would not trip up.   
Slowly and gracefully, we began to waltz to the beat of the music. I can only imagine how it looked to all those watching us. The Prince of the Greenwood and the Princess of Lothlorien dancing together. I could only imagine what they thought about the fact that our clothes seemed to have been planned to blend comfortably in with one another.   
I wore a unique gown. It had a luxurious blueberry dupioni silk corset with delicate lacing and bead work on the edges for decoration. In front of the skirt there were layers of smoky silver and dark lavender chiffon which parts to reveal a flowery lace detail in lavender. The sleeves started partly down the upper part of my arm in a deep lavender that lightened as the floating material dipped downwards and fluttered in the wind. A top my head sat a silver and crystal tiara which glistened on my tightly curled, red hair.   
“So tell me Authiel, what is life like in Lorien?”   
“Lorien is a beautiful place. Our major buildings are nestled in the tree tops and the palace is twirled around the largest in the forest, with the main chambers in the centre of the tree. It is mystical.”  
“It sounds it.”  
I smiled up at him as out waltz slowed and both my hands seemed to drift to his shoulders where they were lightly placed on them; whilst his now free hand carefully nested itself on my spare waist.   
“To speak the truth, Legolas, I was shocked when your Father accepted the invitation.”  
“Why?”   
“He barely leaves you realm. I was delighted and honoured that he would attend this humble event. Delighted; but shocked.”  
A chuckle rumbled through his chest and I could feel the vibrations travel through my fingers.   
“Since the appearance of the spiders and his battles with the drakes from the north, he rarely leaves the forest. And after the spiders attacked the palace …” His voice trailed off as his emotions tried to get the better of him.   
“Your mother!” I gasped, “Oh how insensitive of me! I am sorry, it completely slipped my mind.”  
“It is fine, Authiel. It slipped your mind, you meant nought by it.”  
“I truly am sorry. If I had been able to reach your realm in time she would not have fallen so ill, meaning that she would not have had to have sailed.”  
“Neither my father nor I blame you for her departure. She was thinking of departing a long time previous.”  
“But you were deprived of a …”  
“Authiel, please stop. The past is in the past; no one can change it.”  
“You speak wise words for one so young.”  
“I am hardly young.”  
“Compared to me you are.”  
“How so?”  
“We have a four thousand, eight hundred and forty eight year gap between us. You are defiantly considered young in my eyes.”  
He sent a smile to me which caused my face to involuntarily flush. I looked away from him, desperately attempting to hide my emotions, but I knew that he had seen the new colour to my cheeks for his slight chuckle was obviously directed to my actions.   
However, it was then that I noticed something.   
“I do not wish to alarm you, Legolas. But it seems that we are now the only two who are dancing and all eyes are on us.”  
“Is there a problem with that?”  
“No, but this piece of music is about to end and people may begin to talk if we are not careful.”  
“I see,” He said with a sly smile before he dropped his hands from my waist, took hold of one hands and dipped into a bow.   
“Walk with me?” I said once he had tenderly kissed my hand.   
“Anything for you, Princess!” He replied, holding his arms out to me.   
Slowly, I placed my hand on his and we strolled off of the dance floor, past the staring guests; into the gardens. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a very familiar lady watching us as we rounded the nearest corner.   
“The Lady Arwen has been watching us for some time,” Legolas stated, “Why is that?”  
“She wishes to see whether her theory is correct.”  
“Theory?”  
“She seems to believe that we have a ‘connection’!”   
A light hearted laugh mingled with his words as he said,   
“Does he really?”   
“Yes, due to the incidents surrounding your birth?”  
We came to stop in a quiet clearing, far away from prying eyes. It was surrounded by large, green hedges and trees with delicate flowers underfoot; only a single, stone bench stood in the centre pf the private clearing.   
“And what incident would that be?”   
“When you opened your eyes as I was holding you in my arms. Just before I gave you my gift.”  
Legolas took a step towards me so that we were stood face to face.  
“Oh yes, I have been told of this many times. But what does this have do with us?”  
Closing my eyes, I sucked in a breath and said,  
“Apparently, people think we have a ‘bond’.”  
“Oh?”  
“Ridiculous, I know.”  
“What sort of bond?” Legolas whispered, his breath blowing into my face, causing me to blush at his closeness.  
“It could be anything. Anything from archenemies to …” I paused as I felt my face flush to crimson,” … to … to soul mates.”  
Calm down! What on earth is wrong with me, he is only a boy?  
“Open your eyes!” Legolas whispered in my ear.  
My heart fluttered in my chest at his closeness and at the softness of his words. Slowly I did as he asked and almost gasped at the sight that greeted me.   
Legolas was stood so close to me that his nose was almost touching my skin. A blush spread across my cheeks. I went to take a step back; yet I was stopped. One of Legolas’ hands gently landed on my waist, stopping me from moving. I starred up at him, shock riddling across my expressions.   
“And what dies the Lady Arwen suspect of our bond?”  
I opened my mouth to answer his question but my heart was fluttering so much in my chest that no words would come out; instead I stood there opening and closing my mouth as if I was a fish out of water.   
A soft laugh left Legolas’ lips and he smiled down at me. Tenderly placing a hand on my cheek, he whispered,   
“Answer me, please.”  
Taking a gulping breath, I swallowed back some saliva which had formed out of nervousness. Finally, I was able to whisper,  
“She believes that our hearts are connected. That our souls are … are …”  
“Yes?” He whispered as he stroked my cheek softly with the back of his hand.  
“That our souls are … bonded.”  
Shyly, I dropped my head and looked to the ground; suddenly feeling awfully embarrassed by my own embarrassment. But Legolas’ hand gently cupped my chin and tenderly re-lifted my head so that I could do nought but stare into his stunning blue eyes; making me weak at the knees.   
“Do you know what I believe?” He whispered, his lips a hair’s breadth from my own.   
I nodded my head, not daring to speak.  
“I believe she is right!”   
“What?” I gasped.  
“I believe,” Legolas softly said as he smiled down at me, “That the Lady Arwen is right.”  
And suddenly, his lips brushed against mine.

 

“Auth?” Pippin called, bringing me back to the present.   
“Pardon?” I said, looking at him with a furrowed brow as I blinked my eyes a few times to allow the memory to fade.  
“Are you alright?”   
“Yes. I am fine, thank you.”  
“What is it? What’s wrong? You were quiet for ages!”  
“It’s nothing,” I promised as I stared down at the ring which was glittering in the now setting sun, “It was just a memory …”


	7. Voices in the Shadows

“Sleep, Little Shireling’s, sleep!” I whispered softly as I laid the two Hobbits back so that they could curl up with their backs firmly pressed against the trunk of tree behind them, “Heed no nightly noise. Sleep tight till morning light.”  
Carefully, I placed a kiss on either of their soft curly heads before standing up and making my way to Treebeard, who was peering almost sadly into the forest.  
“Treebeard?” I questioned softly, placing a gentle hand softly on his barky side.   
“I have more business to attend to in the forest. There are many still to call; many more still to come. I will be back before the first of dawn’s rosy fingers touch the land.”  
“Do you think that wise? There are more dangers in these trees than there were in days long since past; your kin are no long the only ones living amongst the trees. You could attract unwanted attention.”  
“I will be fine, Princess. No one would dare to attack an Ent.”  
“I am still not taking any chances,” I mumbled.   
Determinedly, I leant my back against the trunk of a tree and expertly slid down it so I was sitting with my knees curled up in front of me and my fore arms casually leaning on them. My bow, prepped with a waiting arrow, was sat on the ground beside me and I loosely gripped a dagger in my hand; just in case.   
“I will be back shortly!” Treebeard announced, rather to loudly for my taste, then he stepped into the darkness of the trees.  
I shook my head after him and looked at the Hobbits in caution; slightly scared that they would wake from the loudness of Treebeard’s actions; yet they slept as soundly as logs. Silence followed. I sat there for some time; the only sound to be heard was that of my own breathing. The Hobbits slept in almost complete silence and even my sensitive ears were unable to pick up the quiet huffs of air that spilled from Athae’s mouth. It was an eerie silence that the forest had descended upon us; leaving us defenceless from one of the key senses, sound. My eye swiftly flickered past the trees, surveying the menacing shadows in precaution; suspense thick in the air.   
However, that was when a familiar feeling washed over me. The well-known fogginess which clouded my brain descended upon me, and my muscles seemed to begin to fall asleep.  
No, not now. Why now?  
Four figures stood with their backs facing me, staring at the large doors in front of them. There was a Dwarf with bushy red hair, a man with dark brown hair, an old man with pure white hair and an Elf with dazzling blond hair.  
“Legolas …”I whispered.   
I extended my hand towards him, wanting to touch his shoulder; longing filling me. Yet my hand shimmered silvery in the light and passed through his flesh. A sigh left my mouth as despair filled me; was I never to see him again. However, Legolas did seem to shrug his shoulder in a shiver like manner, and then he looked behind him. His eyes connected with my own as he searched for the source of the feeling. Then, when he was unable to find it, he turned back around just as several guards greeted them with severely hostile glares.   
“Ah!” The White Wizard said as he was the men of Rohan before him.   
“I cannot allow you before Théoden-King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By order of Gríma Wormtongue.”  
Gandalf nodded his head in understanding and sent his companions a signal to surrender their weapons. A hostile silence filled the air and the men of Rohan moved their hands to grab the hilts of their swords; anticipating a fight. Yet it was unnecessary. Aragorn was the first to move. Nonchalantly, he handed over his sword and multiple knives. Legolas swiftly followed suit, twirling his knives slightly before he handed them over to the guards. Gimli was the last to react. He longingly stared at his axe for several seconds before he reluctantly handed it over.   
“Ha!” I grinned to the air, “It seems that it has come full circle!”  
A smile grew fully onto my lips as I remembered the capture of the Dwarves of Erebor in Mirkwood, and Fili who seemed to have thousands upon thousands of weapons hidden in his enormous coat. Fili ….  
“Your staff!” The leader gestured to Gandalf.  
“Hmm? Oh. You would not part an old man with his walking stick?” He innocently asked.   
The man stood, hesitant, for a second but then gestured for them to follow him into the hall.   
Tension filled the air as the four beings followed after the leader into the Golden Hall of Meduseld. Once all were inside, the doors closed with a heavy this and an eeriness filled the room.   
At the front of the room sat an elderly man in a throne like chair with a sleazy looking man crouched beside him. This man leapt towards the King’s aged face and whispered,   
“My lord, Gandalf the Grey is coming … he’s a herald woe.”  
“The courtesy of your hall has somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King!” Gandalf cried through the stark silence.  
“He’s not welcome,” The sleazy, greasy man hissed.   
“Why … should I … welcome you … Gandalf Stormcrow?” The King haltingly questioned.   
“A just question, my liege,” The quivering worm exclaimed, standing up to face the company, “Late is the hour that this conjuror choices to appear. Lots spell, I name him. Ill news is a ill guest.”   
“Be silent!” Gandalf snapped, “Keep your fork tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and water to bandy crude words with a witless worm.”  
Slowly, he raised his staff so that the confined crystal was face to face with the leech in man’s clothing.   
“His staff!” The man cried, terror filling his soulless eyes, “I told you to take the Wizard’s staff!”   
He sprang backwards, slivering to the side, as the soldiers leapt forwards; lust for death and blood filling their eyes.   
Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas leapt into action, fighting off the oncoming soldiers who seemed able to replenish their numbers almost instantly with their bare hands. The man who had let my companions into the King’s hall held back one who looked to his second from joining the battle. Gandalf continued to approach the enchanted King as if nothing around him had changed.   
“Théoden, son of Thengel. Too long have you sat in the shadows.”   
The worm attempted tried to slink away, towards a door off to the side. But Gimli charged at him. He placed his foot on the leech’s chest; forbidding him from getting up.  
“I would stay still if I were you!” Gimli growled lowly.   
“Harken to me!” Gandalf cried.   
Théoden grimaced at the sound and watched as the Wizard raised his weathered hand, eyes tightly closed, and softly said,   
“I release you from the spell!”  
A tightness formed in my chest, suddenly, and a lump clamped my throat together; forbidding me from breathing. The minutes drawled slowly in and the pain in my chest cavity grew to the extent that I felt that my lungs were going to break free.   
Yet, swiftly the lump disappeared and I was able to gasp, like a fish out of water, for air; white spots lightly dancing in front of my eyes.   
When they eventually vanished, I was finally able to realise something; I had moved location. No more was I in the realm of visions and prophecies, I was somewhere else, somewhere which actually seemed real.   
I was alone; surrounded in only darkness.   
“Princess …” A sinister voice whispered.   
Trying to keep calm, I looked around from side to side for the source of the voice; a somewhat bored expression plastered onto my face.  
“Princess …”  
“Yes?” I yawned, still casually liking for the source.   
“Your world will burn in fire and blood. The armies of man will fall, all that will remain will be those loyal to me and the festering corpses of my enemies!”  
Instantly, I knew who this voice belonged to and it took all my effort to hide the panicked scream which was trying to rise up my throat.   
“And what do I have to do with that?”  
“Join me!”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Join me. Stand by my side. Be my Queen. Help me destroy the cowards who defy me!”  
I rolled my eyes and placed my finger just above my top lip as I paused in mocking thought,  
“Tempting …” I said, raising my eyebrow as if I was in thought, “… but no!”  
“You will not defy me!” The Evil screamed as the darkness seemingly rippled.  
“I shall do as I wish!”  
An evil scream rippled through the hollow world I was in. The darkness swiftly retreated and the vibrant eye of Sauron became visible from the shadows.   
“Join me!” The Eye whispered cruelly.  
“No!”  
“Join me! …. Join me! …. Join me! ....”   
The voice bounded around the room as the Eye gradually grew in size.  
“Join me! Join me! Join me!”   
I clamped my hands over my ears, attempting to block out the ricocheting sounds. I dropped to the floor and began to rock backwards and forwards slightly.   
“Join me! JOIN me! JOIN ME!!!”  
“SILENCE!!!” I screamed, terror mingling in with my words.   
And that was exactly what I received ….silence …


	8. Smoke to the South

I did not settle that night. I sat with a rigid back and wide, flickering eyes filled with immense fear whilst a ragged breath whistled through my chattering teeth; matching the hammering of my quaking heart. Due to the continuous cold sweats which flooded from me as I trembled slightly at the slightest sound, whether it be the slight rustle of leaves on a nearby branch or a sudden snap as some animal crawled through the undergrowth and stepped on a small twig that lay in its path, my dagger kept slipping from my grip since the excessive sweating had made my palms so slippery; in the end, anger swelled so greatly inside of me by his small, insignificant action that I threw it away, way out of my reach. However, I quickly regretted this when a thought sprung into my mind; if something evil did attack us then I had no way to protect us, we were as good as dead. Before dawns rosy fingers were able to filter completely through the small gaps in the trees, Treebeard had returned and his earth shattering footsteps could fill my ears. The fear seemed to disappear from me; not completely but enough so that I could wake up the Hobbits without them seeing it obviously in my eyes. However, once we were moving, all three of us sitting side by side on Treebeard’s shoulders with Athae plodding along behind, did I allow myself to begin to relax; allowing the warming rays of the sun to wash over my flesh, removing the fear embedded in my soul completely. “Authiel?” Pippin’s young voice called, startling the silence. “Yes, Pippin?” I asked, smiling gently down at him. “Where’s Pelior?” “I do not know.” Pippin’s innocent face morphed into a frown, his brow furrowing and his eyes screwing up slightly as he tried to understand what I meant. Smiling down at him, I ran a hand across his curly hair and slowly ruffled it. He laughed quietly and turned to face me completely; as did Merry on his other side. “Pelior is as free as she is wild,” I explained, “Although she is loyal to me, she is a wild creature meaning that she will not stay by my side as Athae does; not all the time anyway. Pelior … she could be anywhere. She may be with Legolas and the rest of our company in Rohan. Perhaps she is somewhere nearby, watching over us; protecting us if dangers should arise. Or perhaps she has gone home; roosting in the trees that she has lived in for the past few thousand years. It does not matter. She will come when she is called.” “She’s a very smart bird,” Merry whispered, looking up at me with a smile that made him look young; younger than I had seen him seen him in months; as young as he looked in Rivendell. “Indeed.” “How old is she then?” Pippin asked, “Pelior I mean?” “I found her just before the forging of the Rings. In the forest of Lothlorien. She was a chick, had fallen from her nest. Abandoned by her mother and left to die in the jaws of some wild beast. Yet, I took her in. Helped rear her from that weak form. In repayment, the Valar allowed me to keep her as one of my companions. She will live until I die. But if she dies then I will still live. A strange concept really. It is the same for Athae; although I have had Athae for much longer, I was only young then, probably only a thousand years old; if that. Pelior is almost five thousand years old.” “An old, smart bird then,” Merry said, laughing at his words. “Well, they do say that the older one gets, the wiser one becomes,” I replied, smiling down at him. “Then why aren’t you wise?” Pippin asked, a cheeky grin on his face. Playfully, I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow; knocking him backwards. He smirked up at me and as quick as a bolt of lightning, I lifted my hand and messed up his already tangled curls. He let out a squeal as I did this, desperately trying to fight me off. Merry sat to the side, laughing his little head off; reminding me of the training that Boromir had given them and the ambush that they had pulled on him and Aragorn. That day seemed so long ago and the innocent in him seemed to have died so long ago; yet perhaps it had not died, instead he had only buried it, buried it deep within himself to create the serious Halfling that I had come to see every day. My eyes prickled with the hot tears as I watched Merry grab Pippin from behind and continue what I had been doing a few moments ago; my emotions wanting to burst forth at the site that I watching before me. But I calmed myself down and slowly closed my eyes; allowing silence to settle upon us. And as the peace dissolved over us, I allowed myself to bask in the warm rays of the sun once more. As the light filled my skin, I felt myself glow as the hope that I felt I had lost refilled me like a beacon; hope that it had all been a dream and that my imagination had only been playing with me. “Look!” Pippin spoke up, disturbing me once again, “There’s smoke to the south.” Opening my eyes once more, releasing an annoyed sigh as I did so, I saw that there indeed was a cloud of smoke standing out above the dark green trees of Fangorn and against the blue sky that belonged to the Valar like a dark omen. “There is always smoke rising from Isengard these days,” Treebeard explained, tilting his head to the side in order to examine the cloud of death himself. “Isengard?” Merry asked in a whisper. Briefly, he and Pippin exchanged a glance before they both began to climb up the side of Treebeard’s head, so that they could get a better view. “There was once a time when Saruman would walk in my woods,” Treebeard said, his voice warm as he remembered how things had once been in those peaceful times. As he continued to speak, his wooded voice grew cold, displaying his anger to change, “But now he has a mind of metal and wheels. He no longer care for growing things.” “Curunír, man a-d car-enc amar? A-deith pen-boe. Man gar-d an usta-în-eg nimbi barad an onna taitë osp? -D gar pîn po; arma min in wá uin Fangorn pel-d. Man a-d ruin an onna taitë?” I whispered, staring at the cloud. [Saruman, what are you doing to our world? You destroy it without need. What have you to burn in your cold tower to create such smoke? You have little possessions; nothing but the woods of Fangorn surround you. What are you burning to create such things?] Furrowing my brow, I stared at it deeply and something struck me like the lighting of a match deep inside my very soul; allowing me to begin to understand what was happening. But no matter how evil Saruman had become, he would not …. he could not …. he was still a member of the Istari after all. “What is it?” Pippin asked, his innocent voice chirping through the air. “It’s Saruman’s army. The war has started!” Merry sighed, sounding almost disappointed. “No, Merry. The war is not starting. It did not finish in the first place!” Sadly I explained, a sense of dread filling me. The two Hobbits stared at me, confusion filling their sweet faces. Sighing, I smiled at them and continued to speak; running a hand through my hair as I searched for my words, “Sauron did not die three thousand years ago when Isildur cut the ring from his finger and he seemed to combust spontaneously in front of my very eyes. We believed that the war was because we believed that he was dead – an army without a leader cannot be lead. Yet because of the Ring he did not die, meaning that all of this time we have been at war. A secret war; but a war none the less. It does explain the strange activity of the Orcs and other creatures fouler than that. This was did not end. It stayed in the shadows; teasing the light; tempting the innocent with its seductive secrets. But now they have gone past the stage of fear; they no longer care for hiding in the dark whilst we live in the light. Instead they want this world for their own and they will do anything to get it. They have readied their armour and sharpened their swords; discarding the dust upon them.” A sigh slipped from my lips as I paused. Silently I changed my position so that my back was resting on the side of Treebeard’s head; allowing myself to stare hard at the horizon. Almost as if I was addressing the whole world, instead of the two Halflings beside me, “This war will continue and it will be greater than it was in the past. More collisions between the armies; creating more casualties; more destruction to the livelihoods of all. We are about to face the greatest, most destructive war that this world has ever known; and there is little hope that anyone will be able to survive it.” Silence settled. A heavy, shocked silence that hung thickly in the air. The one thing which disturbed this ringing silence was Treebeard; whether it be his heavy footsteps or his groaning breaths but they were the only sounds that greeted my sensitive, Elven ears. No birds chirped in the trees nor did the insects beat their tiny wings. It was an unusual silence for a forest that was once filled with life. “Authiel?” A small voice whispered, startling me. Looking around, I searched for the holder of the voice but there was no one else who could have spoken. “Authiel, please, I need to talk to you.” It was then that it hit me. I knew that voice. Yes, it had aged since I had last heard it, but I could still hear the hint of a boyish tone there. Sucking in a deep breath, I whispered, “Frodo?”


	9. The Library of Elrond

“Authiel, can I … can I talk to you?” Frodo’s small voice spoke up deep in the recesses of my mind.  
“Of course, my dear Hobbit, but I think we would both prefer to do it in person. Do you not agree?”  
“Please?” He whispered.   
I smiled at his sweet voice and then took in a long replenishing breath before I continued to speak, “Close your eyes. Take several slow, deep breaths counting backwards from twenty to one as you do so. Relax. Try to imagine yourself going to sleep. Keep breathing in … and out … ten … nine … eight … seven … six … five … four … three … two … one …”  
“Authiel?” A familiar voice called loudly.   
Slowly I opened my eyes to see that I was in a splendid room which was made up of two levels. The first held two ornate staircases that led onto the upper floors. Multiple wide arcs covered the curve of the circular walls and in between them flags which displayed the emblems of the different kingdoms throughout Middle Earth.   
In the centre of the room was circular, raised platform which had a small hole in the roof above it and the platform was surrounded by six white pillars that stretched towards the ceiling. Candles flickered in the bright light and the surfaces were littered with dry scrolls and dusty books that could not fit on the thousands of overcrowded bookcases that lined every free wall space. The upper floor was similar to that of the lower floor but there were many benches that were pressed against the railing of the fence looking over the lower floor, allowing the guests to sit and read any number of the brittle books. Behind the large raised platform, set a set of steps that led out to a reasonably sized patio with a small podium in the centre.   
However it was neither this patio nor the books that attracted my attention, it was the young Hobbit who was sat on the platform. His dark brown hair as curly as ever yet his eyes seemed to have sunk into his face; ageing him terribly.   
“Authiel?” He called, looking up at me with a grin tugged the years off of him.   
“Hello Frodo,” I said with a smile.  
I watched as he leapt to his feet and ran towards me. Only just was I able to drop onto one knee before he catapulted himself into my arms. He wriggled under my arms as I held him tight, as a mother would to her frightened child who had woken in the night from a nightmare.   
“I missed you,” He whispered into my shoulder.   
“I missed you too,” I replied softly to him, kissing the top of his curly head.   
We stayed like that for some time, me holding the young Hobbit against my breast whilst he warmed to my tough; his body relaxing as he began to feel safe around me.   
“Authiel,” he eventually said, lifting his head up to look at me with his big brown eyes; his eyebrows were deeply furrowed, “Where are we?”  
A soft smile spread across my lips as I straightened up so that I was looking directly into his innocent eyes.   
“It seems that we are in Elrond’s Library, in Rivendell; or a place that looks like it.”  
“Looks like it?” He said with a head that was cocked to the side and a face that was full of confusion.   
“We went into a meditative state when you asked to speak to me. This,” indicating to the room around us, “Is a place which our minds created to make us feel more comfortable; a familiar place that we both know.”  
“Oh,” he replied, looking at the room with a sort of wonder in his eyes; revealing the child that the Ring had all but destroyed.   
“Now,” I said, sitting on the edge of the platform and patting the space beside me, “Why did you summon me?”   
“I’ve been told something and I wanted to know whether it’s true or not.”  
“Tell me what it is and I shall do my best to answer.”  
“Sam and I, we’ve been captured by a man from Gondor. He says that he’s Boromir’s brother. He told us … he told us that Boromir is dead. Is that true?”   
“I do believe that it is,” I replied quietly.  
My eyes fixed themselves on the flickering flame of the candle opposite me. As the fame danced with the breeze, I could see Boromir’s pain filled face flashing in front of my eyes; bathed in red light that resembled the blood trickling from his chest.   
“A great man can be killed by one arrow and Boromir was pierced by many. No mortal man could survive that without magical aid.”  
Frodo released a sad sigh and as I trailed my eyes onto his head, the frown that covered his features filled me with sorrow.   
“Has anyone else … left?” He asked, the worry for his kin obvious on his face.   
Instantly, my mind stretched to Gandalf and his recent resurrection . In my head, a brutal battle ragged of what I should do. To tell him that Gandalf is alive or not to tell him. If I did tell him then I could distract him from the whole of his quest and that could be the reason that the Ring was not destroyed. However, if I did not tell him and he did die ….   
“No … everyone is fine. Well as far as I know they are.”  
“What do you mean?”   
“Myself, Merry and Pippin were separated from the rest of our company by the Orcs. I do not know what state the others are in. However, if I have learnt one thing over the years then I knew that I should trust my heart. My heart tells me that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli are well; that Boromir has passed on to the home of his forefathers.”  
Frodo smiled sadly at me and I crotched down before him, taking his small hands in my own.   
“Stay safe, my dear Frodo.”  
Leaning forward, I placed a kiss on top of his head. He smiled up at me, his brown eyes shining in the flickering light, as I cupped his cheek with one of my hands.   
“If you ever need me I will be there for you, my wonderful Halfling.”  
He quickly wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. The all too familiar prickling sensation of hot tears stung the back of my eyes as I tightly returned his embrace.   
“Authiel!” A different voice called.   
All around us the library began to shake. Books tumbling from the shelves. Scrolls rolling across the stone floor. Dust falling down on us.   
“Time for us to depart,” I whispered smiling sadly at the little Halfling as he stood up completely.   
“Please don’t leave me. I’m scared. Authiel, I can’t do this.”  
“Yes you can, you are your Uncle’s nephew after all. Even though he was terrified, Bilbo still faced Smaug that day. He still found the Arkenstone. He was a part of that Company just as you are a part of ours. You will succeed. I know you will.”  
“Please … Please don’t leave me,” He begged.   
“I must. But I will always be with you in here.”  
As I spoke, I placed my hand on his heart. He looked down at it, allowing me to lift my hand up and flick his nose lightly. Quietly he giggled at my actions and as the room shook again, I could see his innocence surface; the innocence that I had witnessed some time ago return to him.   
“Authiel,” The voice called and room around us shook greatly. Walls crumbling and bookcases falling.   
“I will always be there for you, Frodo!”  
“Authiel!” A young voice called as someone shook my body lightly.   
Opening my eyes, I saw that Pippin was leaning over me.   
“What is it Pippin?” I asked as I sat up straight.  
“We’re stopping.”  
I smiled as I watched many large Ents travel through the trees into the clearing that we were standing in; clambering over to the rock in the centre.  
“Beech. Oak. Chestnut. Ash,” Treebeard happily groaned in his wooden voice, “Good. Good. Good. Many have come. Now we must decide if the Ents will go to war!”  
“The Entmoot,” I whispered with a grin, my eyes looking over the gathering that had formed around us, “At last we are getting somewhere.”


	10. The Entmoot

A yawn slipped from my lips as I watched the Entmoot continue in the amber light of the setting sun. Before me the Ents swayed back and forth, humming to one another in their slow speech. As another yawn spilled from my mouth, I moved my hand to cover it and in doing so I accidently nudged Athae in the ribs. She lifted her head up and released an annoyed huff from her nose, and a glare hung in her eyes.   
“Sorry,” I whispered, running my hand through her mane.   
Beside me, Pippin was softly snoring with his back resting on the rough bark of the tree. Merry was passing in front of us, impatiently watching the Ents conversation. As he slept, Pippin’s head moved to the side slightly and I watched, and amused smile sweeping my lips, his head roll off of the side of the tree trunk; instantly waking him up.   
“It’s been going on for hours!” Merry grumbled when he realised that young Peregrin Took had woken.   
“Calm yourself, mister Brandybuck,” I called a loving smile on my face as Pippin wriggled into my side, “Good things come to those who wait!”  
“They must have decided something by now,” Pippin yawned, looking up at the Ents with sleep in his eyes.   
“Decided?” Treebeard said in his oaky voice, turning around as he did with screaming joints, “No. We only just finished saying good morning.”  
“But it’s night time already. You can’t take forever!” Merry growled.   
Although he had his back to me, I could see his anger through his scrunched up shoulders, his rigid back and his fisted hands.   
“Don’t be hasty!” Treebeard replied.   
“We’re running out of time.”  
Merry turned from Treebeard and stomped over to us, his forehead crinkled as he glowered at the ground.  
“Calm yourself, Merry. The Ents are an old species and they themselves are old, therefore their speech shall also be slow,” I said, a light reassuring smile on my face.   
“But the war has already started. The others are already involved and we are sat on the side doing nothing.”  
“Do not bed for war, Merry. War is a horrid venture and none should beg for it. Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas know war; they are experienced fighters. As am I. Yet do not beg for it. For I could never wish for you to witness such evils.”  
With a thud, Merry dropped to my other side and rested his head on my shoulder. Gently, I kissed the top of his head and then lent onto the bark of the tree behind me; staring up at the starlit sky. By mentioning Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas, my mind began to wander to them; my heart aching to know of them. I was happy, thankful even, when the dull ache filled my head and slowly my vision began to blur.   
I was stood in a partially physical form, in an unrecognisable room, beside Aragorn who was pulling on his armour. The chainmail he had on looked heavy and was noticeably old from the metal links that had turned a brownish colour from the decay of time. On top he placed a beaten up vest that looked to be at least fifty years old and had seen quite a bit of action from the replaced patches that littered it. His strapped his sword belt on around his waist, tying it securely in place. The, Aragorn bent to pick something else up, but Legolas was holding his sword out for him.   
“We have trusted you this far. You have not led us astray,” Legolas said as he handed the silver blade over to Aragorn. Solemnly, he bowed his head, “Forgive me. I was wrong to despair.”  
A smile slid onto my rose lips as I extended my arm to him and lightly gripped his muscular tricep.   
“Ú-moe edaved, Legolas.”  
[There is nothing to forgive, Legolas.]  
They put their hands on each other’s shoulders and warmly smiled at one another; a sight that warmed my heart, my love and my son acting as equals.   
This heart felt moment was ruined by Gimli who strolled into the room with a chainmail shirt on.   
“We had time, I’d get this adjusted,” he grumbled and dropped the bunched up chainmail; which fell all the way to the floor – and even a few rolls bunched up around his feet – he looked over to Legolas and Aragorn realising what had happened and reasoned, “It’s a little tight across the chest.”  
Aragorn nodded his head quite seriously, although the struggle to supress a grin was obvious, whilst Legolas kindly smiled at him.   
I, however, could not hold back a soft giggle as I lightly gripped Legolas’ arm. Instantly, Legolas’ head whispered towards me; his sensitive ears hearing me. I smiled up at him, curiosity filling me, as I lightly squeezed his arm. His eyes widened at the action and gently he placed his hand on the area where my own was; alas I was not physically there so his hand simply passed straight through my own.   
“Authiel,” He whispered with a sad yet loving smile on his lips.   
“Hello, my love,” I replied sadly.   
The silence was interrupted by a loud, familiar horn rippled through the air; attracting my own and my companions’ attention. Legolas cocked his head to the side and stated, “That is no Orc horn,” Before he quickly sprinted out of the room; presumably running towards the main gate.   
I could feel the familiar tug back to reality tingling through my body. Yet before I did return familiar calm face with long blond hair and dressed in his Lothlorien garb with his silver sword on his belt. And as the Valar whisked me back to the real world with a content smile on my lips, “Haldir.”


	11. The Brothers of Durin

Hours passed, and still the Entmoot continued. Pippin had placed his head in my lap. His legs curled onto his chest as he watched the Ents talk. If his breathing had shallowed, I would believe that he was asleep; however, his breath was loud and regular so I knew that he actually was awake. Merry had placed his head on my shoulder and was leaning against my side. Slowly, I stroked the top of Pippin’s curly, brown head whilst my eyes watched the stars as one by one they began to fill up the inky black sky that stretched endlessly across the heavens.   
“Authiel?” Pippin’s small voice quietly asked.   
“What is it, sweetheart?” I questioned as he turned his head to look up at me.   
“Will you sing to us?”   
A quiet laugh rolled off of my tongue and I gently swirled one of his chocolate ringlets around my finger; wrapping it tightly before allowing it to spring back into place.   
“Please,” He whispered.  
“As you wish …” I replied, releasing a fake exasperated sigh before I spoke but the smile on my lips countered this, “ 

Where once was light  
Now darkness falls  
Where once was love  
Love is no more  
Don't say goodbye  
Don't say I didn't try

These tears we cry  
Are falling rain  
For all the lies you told us  
The hurt, the blame...  
And we will weep to be so alone  
We are lost  
We can never go home

So in the end  
I'll be what I will be  
No loyal friend  
Was ever there for me

Now we say goodbye  
We say you didn't try

These tears you cry  
Have come too late  
Take back the lies  
The hurt, the blame...

And you will weep  
When you face the end alone  
You are lost  
You can never go home  
You are lost  
You can never go home.”

By the end of the song, Pippin was lightly snoring, his chest slowly rising and lowering, and Merry was attempting to keep his eyes open. But the loud yawn informed me of how tired he actually was.  
“Go to sleep, Merry,” I quietly urged, keeping my voice low so to not wake Pippin from his slumber, “I will wake you when the decision has been made; I swear.”  
Another yawn leapt out of his open throat as he looked over at me with heavy eyes; nodding his head slightly. Gently, he lifted up my arm and burrowed into my side in order to get himself more comfortable. Carefully I placed my arm on top of his back and fiddled lightly with the ends of his blond hair.   
“Auth,” Merry yawned, “What was that song about?”   
“A sad, little creature that Bilbo had the pleasure of meeting once. I call it ‘Gollum’s Song’.”  
Yet Merry had barely even heard me mention its name for his eyes drooped fully and his breathing shallowed.   
An almost silent laugh left my mouth as I smiled down at them. Carefully, I kissed the top of Merry’s head whilst I smoothed Pippin’s hair back into place. Whilst I stared at them both, an image filled my head not of the two Halflings by my sides but of the two other troublemakers who I had travelled with only a few years ago; Kili and Fili of the Durin line. Those two Dwarves had been mischievous yet loveable just as my Halflings are. A tear slid down the side of my cheek as I remembered my time with Kili and Fili. 

“Kili,”  
“And Fili,  
“At your service.”

“If there’s a key, there must be a door.”  
“There’s another way in.”

“Orcs?”  
“Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands will be crawling with them.”  
“They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet: no screams, just lots of blood.”

“Aren’t you going to search me? I could have anything down my trousers.” 

“The stone in your hand, what is it?”  
“It is a talisman. A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a Dwarf reads that runes on this stone, they will be forever cursed … or not, depending on whether you believe that kind of thing. It’s just a token.”

“I belong with my brother!”

Tears spilled down my cheeks as their voices racked themselves across my mind. I held back a scream of anger as I stopped the horrible memories of the Battle of the Five Armies flooding my senses; quietly shaking as I blocked their deaths from my brain – not wanting to relive that moment ever again.   
Silent tears dripped off of my eyelashes and blotched my cheeks as my ragged breath filled the air, sounding loud above the quiet, constant humming of the Entmoot. In a quiet, shaky breath I whispered something to the stars that only the night could hear, “Kili … Fili …”


	12. The Last March of the Ents

My musical laugh trickled through the air, our silent atmosphere having been destroyed by Pippin’s wonderful, wonderful idea. Since then Merry and Pippin had been constantly talking, telling us some of their most famous adventures over the years and all they trouble that they had caused the Shirefolks over the years.   
“….. And then the firework exploded in our faces. Inside the tent!” Merry cried, doubling over to clutch his chest as his face reddened from laughter.   
“You told me to stick it in the ground, and I did!” Pippin announced, his arms folded across his chest and his bottom lip sticking out as he pouted.   
“Outside!”   
“I was outside!”   
“Outside of the tent!”   
“Well, you could have made that …”   
“Boys,” I interrupted, raising my hands as I silenced their argument, “What happened next?”   
“The firew….” Merry began but Pippin quickly overtook him.   
“The firework exploded! It transformed into this giant, orange dragon and flew over the party. Everyone was screaming, cowering on the ground or running away. It almost got Bilbo and Frodo too!”  
“Then the dragon just exploded into thousands of magnificent fireworks!” Merry finished, rushing his words to make sure that he could finish this important part of the story.   
A chuckle left my lips as Pippin playfully glared at Merry, who smirked and tuck his tongue out in reply.   
“Then Gandalf caught us!” Pippin wheezed, for he and Merry had started laughing uncontrollably once they broke their moment of anger, “We were covered in soot and burnt markers. He grabbed us by the ears just as we were about to go and get another.”  
“He made us do the washing up. Us!”   
Another laugh erupted from my throat, a very loud, unladylike laugh that caused me to instantly blush and cover my face with my hands. This caused the Hobbits to laugh even louder, and Pippin had to grip the side of Treebeard’s head tightly since he almost fell off of his shoulder.  
“Oh shush!” I mumbled, looking down at Athae’s neck.   
“What about you, Treebeard?” Pippin asked when he had stopped giggling, “Any fun stories?”  
“We Ents have little adventures. We spend our lives watching over the forests. But there have been some. Like the woodpecker who tried to make his home in my neck. And those little family of field mice that climb up sometimes ad they tickle me awfully. They’re always trying to get somewhere where they …”  
Yet he stopped before he could finish, the gasp he released disposed of the joy that filled his voice.   
The sight in front of me stung my insides, filled e with unexplainable sorrow. As far as I could see, the ground was dry and scorched whilst thousands upon thousands of tree trunks covered the earth. Instantly, I leapt off of Athae’s back and sprinted towards the first trunks in my sight. Tears of anger burned my eyes as I placed a tender hand on the cold bark. Tightly I clenched my eyes shut and stretched out the threads of my mind to try to make some kind of contact with the soul of this suffering creature. But there was nothing. Its soul was empty; it was dead.   
“Many of these trees were my friends,” Treebeard announced, distracting the Hobbits from my shaking figure, “Creatures I had known from nut and acorn.”  
“I’m sorry, Treebeard,” Pippin mumbled.   
“They had voices of their own.”  
Athae nudged me in head into my shoulder in a sympathetic manner. I held onto her neck and softly wept into her mane.   
“Curunír,” I growled almost silently, “What have you done?”  
“Saruman?” Treebeard announced, hearing my words, “A wizard should know better.”  
Anger that had pent itself up inside of me exploded as I rose to my feet and released a loud scream; pouring my raw emotions into this sound. Treebeard joined me in this scream, our voices mingling and becoming one as it echoed across the forest of Fangorn.   
“There is not curse in Elvish, Entish or the tongues of Men for this treachery!” I spat, glaring at the Orthanc – that black tower of death – as it rose over the plains of Isengard.   
“Look!” Pippin gasped, “The trees! They’re moving!”  
A smug smile grew on my lips as I realised that it was my emotions, my raw power over nature that allowed these creatures to lift their roots and avenge their kin.  
“Where are they going?” Merry asked.   
I didn’t even turn my head to answer. Instead I unsheathed my dual blades and swished them around; the musical sound that filled my ears as I sliced the air filling me with an enormously satisfying sensation of blood lust, “They have business with the Orcs,” Spitting out the name of that filthy breed in disgust as I spoke.   
“My business is with Saruman tonight with a rock and stone!” Treebeard informed whilst my ears picked up the sounds of hundreds of pairs of feet slamming into the moist forest earth.  
“Yes!” Merry exclaimed as the creaking of splintered joints filled my ears.  
“Come, my friends. The Ents are going to war. It is likely that we go to our doom. Last march of the Ents.”


	13. The Battle of Isengard

My blades slashed through limbs of the foul mutants known as Orcs – creatures who at one point been a part of my kin but had allowed the dark forces to consume them completely – without feeling any remorse. The Ents fought by my side, throwing large boulders at those who stood in their way. Uncontrollable emotions poured from me, pure emotions: pure anger, pure hate, pure grief. This caused magic to ripple from my fingers; violent, raw magic.   
“A hit! A fine hit!” Treebeard’s voice roared, filtering from through the chaos, even with the great distance between us I could still hear him clearly with a flick of my wrist.   
With a flick of my wrist, a wave of Orcs was destroyed by a wall of fire. At the same time, the dying plains of grass rose up from their withered state and wrapped themselves around the ankles of the fleeing beasts; keeping them in place so that they could meet their fiery end. I watched as some of the Orcs shot blazing arrows at one of the Ents; causing it to catch on fire. My eyes widened at this but I could do little to assist for Athae reared up slightly and I quickly gripped the reigns with one hand so that I could stay in the saddle whilst I fought off the brutes. However I was thrown off, violently hitting the hard earth, as Athae bucked; quickly fleeing so she could escape to the woods.   
Selflessly, I threw myself into the path of the Orcs, taking their blows from their crooked steels. One hit me in the gut and even though the adrenaline coursed through my blood like liquid fire, a groan slipped from my lips as the pain rocketed through my body. Short breaths filled my lungs. In a single, fluid movement I catapulted myself into the air and gambolled as if I was under water; slicing and slashing at the bodies beneath me. A liquid trickled down the side of my head and dropped to the earth. A line of red diamonds trailing behind me. Beads of glistening sweat clung to my brow and a heavy breath spilled hotly from between clenched lips as I dropped to the ground; dead orcs behind me.   
“Brave the dam!” Treebeard ordered, “Release the river!”   
An exhausted scream left my lips as more Orcs waddled towards me. My eyes narrowed into slits as I racked in a breath and then launched myself into battle once more. Slice after slice. Flick after flick. Cut after cut. I fought. It only took minutes, probably two at the most, but to me it stretched on for hours. I didn’t stop when they deeply cut me in the top of my left arm. I didn’t stop when I fell to the ground and had my good hand stomped on, breaking my wrist. I only stopped what the easily recognisable sound of rushing water filled my ears. I watched as the water flew down the ravine towards the black obsidian Orthanc. The dazzling blue water shone in the light as it consumed everything in sight. The Orcs who had circled me had fled and there was no high ground within near reach; meaning that I had no means of escape.   
Suddenly, a tingling sensation ran up my arm and I stared at the ends of my fingers. A smile growing on my face, I extended my arms in front of me – ignoring the pain – and closed my eyes. As the water engulfed me, I took a single breath and braced myself for the bone crushing sensation of thousands and thousands of gallons of water slamming into my petite body. But nothing happened.   
Surprised I cautiously opened my eyes and released a breath of air I was holding in in a loud gasp; my eyes the size of horseshoes. The water was surrounding me, its height reaching the tips of my ears, yet it was not covering me. I was in a circle of air that stretched just past my fully extended arms. It just didn’t seem possible. Yet I was looking through the circle as if I was stood in a glass orb for I could see the limb bodies of Orcs and Uruks of all shapes and sizes floating past; being swept away by the current of the fast flowing water. Time seemed to slow down around me; the yells of the Ents, the tormented screams from the drowning Orcs and the shrieks of fear from my Hobbits as they called my name all seemed to suddenly slow down.   
Then, a bright, white light flashed down in front of my eyes; blinding me. And suddenly there was silence.   
The light faded from me. Yet it still filled my eyes and for a moment I truly believed that I was blind. Thankfully, this sensation quickly subsided and I was able to see a beautiful hall that seemed to be made of pure starlight. It was wonderful. Pure white pillars made of pure marble twirled up to the spotless ceiling that held a beautiful, spiralling chandelier. The walls were plain, yet shimmered in the light as if it had a thousand crystals encrusted into it.   
It was then that I noticed that the pain had subsided. My wrist seemed to have been magically fixed back into place and the top of my other arm was healed almost as if the incident had never happened in the first place – yet a faint scar ran across it meaning that the wound had been real. Instinctively, I lifted my hand and ran it across the back of my head, the stickiness of dried blood did not run across my fingers; although there was a tender lump at the top right of my skull. Someone, or something, had almost completely healed me.   
Slowly I rose to my feet and even though my mind did not comprehend the movement, slowly my legs travelled down the glowing white pathway. I walked without knowing where exactly it was that I was going. The corridor was long and white, much like the rest of the palace, and led to another pure white room. In front of me there was a platform that held fifteen thrones that curved inwards in a semi-circle. These thrones seated the fifteen most beings in our world; the Lords and Queens of the Valar. In the middle the most powerful could be found, and the less important fanned the outside.   
The centre seated Manwë, the King of the Valar. He looked old, his hair white and his eyes surrounded by wrinkles. On his right sat his bride, Queen of the Stars; Varda. Her skin was as pale as the light of the orbed moon, her long blond hair shining as fiercely as a close up star and her eyes sparkling like the ever glowing light of the stars; her beauty was unparalleled to any that I had ever seen in my life. On Manwë’s left sat the most powerful of all the Valar, the Dark Power; Morgoth. His eyes were as deep and black as the darkest sky. His hair slick and shoulder length but as dark as the obsidian rock of the Orthanc. Yet his face was quite handsome; easily he would be able to make any young maiden fall weak at her knees to him and bend to his every will. His chin and cheek bones chiselled perfectly.   
All looked upon me with their deep stares that bore into my soul completely. Instantly I dropped to one knee and bowed my head, knowing that only one who was truly worthy was blessed enough to stair upon their immortal faces.   
“Rise, my child,” A soft, female voice announced, “There is much to discuss.”   
Cautiously, I rose to my feet and stared at those who had spoken. It was the Queen of the Stars who had addressed me. Her immortal face more beautiful than any I had ever seen in all my long years of life.   
“We have summoned you hear for a reason at that reason is this. We believe that you are ready!”   
“Ready for what, my lady?”  
“To receive what you have yearned for all these years, my dear.”  
A breath hitched in my throat as my eyes widened. I did not speak a word – I could not speak a word; I only stared.   
“You have acted selflessly to defend those who are weaker than yourself and the innocents that you surround yourself with,” The King explained, his voice old and weathered, yet still commanding.   
“And willingly fought to defeat all those who would oppose you,” Morgoth commented with a snarling grin plastering his malicious face.   
“Therefore we have come to the decision that we shall bless you with the powers of the Istari,” Manwë decreed.   
“On the day when Curunír falls, that is the day when you, my dear child, shall become one of their number officially,” Varda expressed, her eyes sprinkled with starlight.   
Still no words left my lips but my eyebrows had furrowed slightly as I understood their words.  
“Do you understand, dear one?”   
“Yes,” I managed to whisper whilst my brain ticked over, trying to comprehend their words, “Thank you.”  
“However,” Morgoth snapped, instantly gathering my attention, “These will only stay with you if your supposed Dark Lord is destroyed. His Ring must be destroyed. As must his other form.”   
“Other form?”  
Morgoth stared at me as if I was some sort of idiotic creature who could not even lace their own boots let alone have the nerve to talk to one such as he.   
“When he created the Rings for your kin, the mortal men and the Dwarves, Sauron disguised himself as Mairon.”  
“I remember,” I murmured thinking how he had fooled us all those years ago; once more cursing my precise memory.   
“Mairon crafted these rings to consume all races of your world. Only the men were weak enough to fall for it. It is this form that has become physical once more. Mairon must be destroyed in order for the Ring to be destroyed; therefore destroying the Eye. Only you can do this. At the final battle you must be there, in Mordor, to fight him; and if you do not destroy him then none can survive.”  
“I do not mean to offend you, my Lord,” I boldly announced, looking him straight in the eye, “But surely you would be able to extinguish his powers considering he was your servant before your fall.”  
As soon as the words left my lips, I instantly knew that I had made a mistake; regretting that I did not bite my tongue instead of allowing my mouth to work without any thought of the consequences. The room suddenly lost its pure glow and seemed to darken around me; the darkness pouring from the dark robes of the Dark Power. Morgoth stared at me with a dark glare, his eyes wide enabling me to see the pure, red flame that danced and flickered in his irises. His voice was laced with venom yet his speech was calm and slow; but no less terrifying.   
“Do not doubt my skill. I am more powerful than you could possibly imagine. With a mere flick of my wrist I could destroy you. Whilst the Ring is in existence, I cannot destroy him for he was cunning enough to ensure that the Ring can only be destroyed in the place that it was created; the fires of Mount Doom. By doing this he ensured its safety from us, meaning that we are unable to do anything until someone can fight its clutch and destroy it there. The Ring can only be destroyed when someone of equal power – no more, no less – can fight his past form and destroy. Then, and only then, can I relinquish my powers onto him. Understand?”   
“Of course, my lord,” I mumbled, bowing my head out of shame – and slight fear.   
The room almost instantly returned to its natural brightness and the Queen of Stars smiled calmly down at me.   
“Heed our words, princess,” She said softly, “You and you alone can destroy Mairon. If you do not find a way, no one will.”  
And as soon as she finished her words, the bright light descended upon me and the immortal faces of the Valar vanished from my sight.   
Once the light had ascended back into the heavens, I saw that I was once more in Isengard. I was not, however, surrounded by the circle of water that stretched up to the tips of my ears. I was stood on a boulder, surrounded completely by glistening blue water. In front of me, I could see a reflection of myself that startled me. I was donned in a bright red cloak. A Lothlorien wood staff with a blood red crystal on top was tightly held in grip; something that I had not even realised was in my grip until then. It was my hair, though, that caused me to gasp in shock. Although it was still curly and orange but flaming red streaks covered certain sections.   
Tearing my eyes away, I observed my flooded surroundings and glared up at the fear obvious in his eyes; visible even with this great distance between us.   
A soft breeze flew into my face, blowing my hair back. There I stood, my feet a shoulder width apart with one arm held straight and the other bent at the elbow whilst I held my new staff. I craned my neck slightly so that I could comfortably stare up at the terrified tyrant with a glare printed on my fair face.   
And that was how the Battle of Isengard ended. The Ents patrolling the murky waters with ease under Treebeard’s stern gaze whilst Merry and Pippin investigated the ruins of Isengard. I just stood there, standing on that boulder, glaring up at the Orthanc; feeling slightly at ease – even if it was only for that moment - since one villain was powerless.   
Perhaps we would be able to successful win this war, after all.


End file.
